


Maybe

by Celtic_Knot



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5573308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celtic_Knot/pseuds/Celtic_Knot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Haku is someone who doesn’t just find it convenient that Eiri won’t die, but needs him to live.</i>
</p><p>Haku enjoys a good book, but Eiri has one in particular that he wants to hold off on finishing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [endgame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/endgame/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** I do not own Messiah Project, nor did I in any way contribute to its creation. All rights go to their respective owners. 
> 
> **WARNINGS:** mild angst, thoughts on potential deaths
> 
> Gift fic for Jelle~ :D 
> 
> And my first time writing Eiri and Haku, new characters give me terrible anxiety (but I love these two so I'm glad to have gotten the chance to write this).
> 
> Set directly before the start of Eisei.

* * *

 

By now it shouldn’t surprise him what terrible a place Sakura is, or how terrifying the whole business of being a Messiah is. Honestly, it’s not really a surprise so much as he has been reminded just what kind of hell he has come to call home.

The new kouhai he and Haku met yesterday. They were that reminder. Their faces, their nervous gestures, and the heavy things they had carried through the door with them. Those are the things they’ll lug around, belongings that don’t belong to them anymore but still weigh them down. Because hey, they don’t have an identity. Sakura strips that away. Peels as much of the old paint off as possible, and coats whatever can’t be removed in black. It’s effective enough, they’ve gotten results.

The problem is painting over doesn’t change what’s underneath, it simply smothers and chokes. Makes it harder to breath. Makes it more difficult when even that thick black starts to chip away, and the old glares out of the holes. Exposed to the mirror and your Messiah. It becomes a mosaic of sorts, then and now, some images more beautiful than others. He considers himself lucky when he sees Haku’s.

But the kouhai are freshly covered.

Eiri thinks he might be becoming a little too sentimental, probably Haku’s fault, but looking at four new faces, hearing four new names. He can’t help but wonder how they had ended up in front of him, dripping with the ink of Sakura’s rules.

Nobody comes here by choice per say. Sakura is more like an end of the line kind of place. That’s why it was hard to look at those new recruits and think he’ll have to train them to risk their lives. Lives that have already been battered and bent into something their former selves probably wouldn’t recognize. He doubts they expected that they would become the sort of people who end up in Sakura. They probably had goals or dreams that had nothing do with being a spy, and maybe they had friends and families that they left behind. That thought sits on Eiri’s nerves, not sharp, a lingering press. Uncomfortable in the way it reminds him of himself and Haku, of their siblings, of the hundreds of thoughts they’ve shared and kept from and for each other.

The pieces of his gun snap back together easily. He sets it back on his bedside table. The weapon is simple. Easy to clean, easy to assemble, easy to use. It wasn’t always. His skill with guns had been learned. Painfully. Certainly there had been a degree of natural talent that he takes pride in, but practice is what makes his actions certain. Is what allows him to not have to think or worry about what his hands do. It’s different with another person. The gun reacts to his hands alone, on its own it’s nothing but powder, lead, and mindless mechanisms.

Then he had been given a complicated human being with blood and thoughts and bone and feelings. A Messiah, the same one who is currently continuing on in his mission to fill their room with enough candy wrappers that they could use them to make a colored wallpaper.

His Messiah hadn’t been so easy. When Eiri had pulled that trigger he never knew what would happen.

Right from the beginning Haku had fought well, reassuringly so. He had been in Sakura longer than Eiri too. Two Messiahs longer, though measuring time in short lives still feels strange and inaccurate. How do you convert life into time? 2 years says nothing but 730 days. It doesn’t mention anything of how much had been fit into those days. Eiri has assigned a completely different value to life than he once had. It’s been a constant shift accounting for the changing importance of work, and friends (Sakura can’t stop him from calling Souma and Shuusuke such), and his Messiah.

But Haku hadn’t fit into his life so nicely at first. It’s not that Eiri has an opposition to teamwork. But being someone’s Messiah is a little more than teamwork. It’s fitting your life to someone else’s in a way that unravels formerly separate seams and sews them back together, cross stitching two into one.

For the thousands of reasons Eiri and Haku should not have worked, there were many more that said they could. The loudest being that they were basically an ideal fit, jinx for jinx. It’s almost funny in a choking kind of way how well that worked out. He’d once heard Souma nudge Haku, “Third time’s the charm?”

Being Messiah number three had come with a sort of responsibility that Eiri hadn’t wanted, but had taken willingly.

_I’m not going to leave you._

He promised. Because after every little bit of Haku he has uncovered, he has learned that he couldn’t do that to Haku. He has realized he wants to stay, and not because of his jinx. But because he never wants to see that look of despair and desperation on Haku’s face again. Because he would rather have twenty too many alarms go off every morning than have to hear Haku plead like he’s gagging on tears. Would rather wake up to sticky sheets and overly sweet kisses than remember salt and sorrow.

“Eiri.” Haku has said his name for so long now. So many different ways. Different stresses, tones, speeds. Eiri never even knew such a short name could be said so many ways with so many meanings. Haku never seems to run out. Today it’s sharp on the first syllable to grab his attention, slurring into a gentler second one. _Are you ok?_

Eiri sighs, huffing out exasperation to cover half a smile. Haku is disturbing his private thoughts. He should have been included in those thoughts to begin with. “One second.”

The blanket he grabs comes off of his own bed, but it smells like Haku anyway. If nothing else there are no candies stuck to it or suspicious juice box stains. At least not yet. Haku has a way of taking everything that’s his and making it more of a joint ownership. Eiri doesn’t remember the exact day he stopped being bothered by that.

Haku starts to unwrap another caramel right as Eiri tosses the blanket at his face. Haku just chuckles, allows the blanket to stay draped over his head for a few moments. The muffled sound tugs Eiri toward the bed. Haku’s hair will probably stand up with static, and Eiri can nearly predict where each strand will go. Just like he doesn’t need to move the blanket to know that Haku is smiling. Eyes probably crinkled around the edges and lips twitching with a kind of laughter that is so much freer than it used to be. Haku isn’t remembering fun, he’s having it with Eiri.

The bed crinkles when Haku tugs Eiri down next to him, hands firmly finding his waist. He should be irritated, should grab the garbage bag, should yell at Haku to clean up until his throat is dry and scratched. But between the kouhai and too many thoughts lingering on their not so distance graduation, beginnings and ends butt into each other. Banging around, knocking down things that had seemed stable while other things that were once so fragile stand up to the force just fine.

Haku’s fingers slide along his ribs. Slide between bone and muscle, tracing across places that Eiri would never let anyone else touch. Between Eiri’s first and third ribs Haku brushes across the memory of Souma and Shuusuke watching them argue, infuriatingly amused (well more Souma, Shuusuke had been slightly concerned). He sighs when Haku’s hand moves down to his hip and hooks over the bone and the the first time Eiri had let Haku touch him with something more than a friendly gesture. Even those had been hard to accept at one time. Eiri grips Haku’s wrist loosely when he traces circles on his breastbone, tightening around the memory of when Eiri had finally _finally_ convinced Haku that he would be the Messiah to stay.

“You enjoy doing this?” It’s more like laughter barely held into the confines of words.

“Of course.” Haku’s smile is almost as distracting as whatever grossly sweet thing he’s saying, “You feel nice.”

He snorts, “Yeah?”

It’s ridiculous. It’s also something he has accepted as part of them. Every time he goes to Haku’s bed, Haku makes a habit of spending the first few minutes just touching him. Softly, reverently, sometimes slipping towards teasing. But all of it so entirely different from the way Eiri had been used to being to handled before Sakura. That doesn’t mean Sakura is a great place, it means Haku is. Eiri has never asked exactly why Haku needs these minutes of quiet touch. Sometimes he’s suspicious that fingers seek scars under his clothes, but that doesn’t quite sum it up. No, it’s more like Haku finds every spot that holds some sort of significance to them. Those spots have slowly but surely become the entirety of Eiri.

“What’s on your mind?” Haku doesn’t always ask him so directly. He has other methods of coaxing it out of Eiri, but the directness doesn’t offer a side route for Eiri to slip out. He wouldn’t try to, not at this point.

“The kouhai.”

“Ah.” _Continue_.

They don’t know much about the four other than their names, their ages, and a skeletal rundown of what skills they have. All the other information Eiri has is collected from brief observation. Observations he wants to run by Haku, see if he’s missing anything. It tastes funny, kouhai, it nips his lips when he thinks he and Haku have been around long enough that they’re qualified to teach new recruits to not die. Survival as a measure of authority seems to gloss over the uniqueness of the individuals, their not yet selected Messiah, and the overall situation. These new guys could follow him and Haku’s steps perfectly and still end up dead by any number of unpleasant causes. Maybe following Haku’s encouragement or Eiri’s advice will push one of them right into their end. It’s not as though Eiri is exactly an expert at staying out of harm’s way.

“What did you think of them?” He allows his head to rest against Haku’s shoulder for good measure.

“I like them.” It’s simple, but loaded. So frustratingly like Haku. There are things Eiri wants to know. How is Haku defining “like,” and what makes him like them. Useful information that Eiri might actually be able to use to formulate the best way to get them all to graduation with as few scars and as many limbs intact as possible.

Haku won’t give him that information, not yet. Eiri will have to share first.

“I liked them too. They have some promise.” His lip doesn’t taste much like answers or anything else that he needs when he bites it. “Ariga and Shirasaki are supposed to have combat experience. The other two less so, but they have different skills.”

Breaking them down into their usefulness to Sakura is bittersweet. Eiri is here because he found a place where he can be used, found someone he can be useful to. That later part is what has come to matter more, fuck Sakura. Being the one to see Haku through all their missions, through long nights, and ungodly early mornings. Haku has given him a purpose rather than a job. The kouhai have skills and traits that the Church will hone, but those skills don’t tell how they’ll work with others. How they’ll navigate a conversation or open themselves up to the overwhelming concept of Messiah.

“I know you like them.” Only Haku would choose to punctuate his sentence with a kiss to the forehead. It’s embarrassing, and touching, but mostly frustrating. “Did you pick a favorite?”

“No!” The question was a joke, he knows that. Eiri knows that Haku knows that when he shoves at his shoulder, but lets his fingers slide the long way down his arm afterwards. Every wrinkle of Haku’s jacket is familiar. Moved by muscles that have held him when he was near death, and when everything was ok. Haku is just tugging him around a bit now, encouraging him to use emotions that become dull as skill becomes sharp.

Eiri’s answer remains true though. He doesn’t have a favorite. Not yet at least. Ariga had struck him as one he might have something in common with. The way he’s entirely too practiced in his movements. Everything too precise, someone taught him well. Someone whose teaching methods would probably do more than rise a few eyebrows. But the results are there in Ariga’s apparent competency with a gun and hand to hand combat. But Ariga had stood apart, stiffly separating himself from the others. More interested in watching the other three than trying to mingle. Not necessarily a bad thing, but- Eiri makes a mental note to have a chat with him at some point.

Yuuri and Shirasaki have a history. No file needs to tell him that. They had screamed it from the moment they entered the room. Shirasaki had told him about years and years when he stood between Yuuri and the others, guarding him (not so) discreetly. Yuuri had shouted about their relationship in the way he collapsed his presence into Shirasaki’s and glanced at him every few moments. A constant flicker that illuminated brief bits of what they must have seen. That attachment could prove dangerous. Depending on the Church. They don’t often let recruits keep much of what they come in with.

Mamiya had been the hardest to read no doubt. Eiri had felt Haku pick up on him within moments. Not in the _watch out for this guy_ way, but more like something about him was missing. Like his very presence was something he thought he could will away. As though existing in the moment was draining. There’s a story there. Probably one with ripped and burned pages, ashes smudging out words on what remains. It’s mostly likely a mess. Mamiya is painfully common for Sakura, but existing as an anomaly in the same instant.

They’re all people with complex pasts and personalities. No, he doesn’t have a favorite. Can’t presume that he knows anything about them that would give him that authority, and maybe he’ll never get that chance, maybe they’ll all die long before he knows anything of real value.

“Stop thinking so hard.” Haku again. Always butting in when he’s lurching toward something dangerous. Not bullets, Eiri can take those just fine, but the sticky emotional stuff that he’d prefer to avoid. Haku insists on helping with this. Insists on stroking Eiri’s back even after Eiri tries to swat his hand away.

“We need to have a plan.” Plans don’t save lives, but they could help. He should be thinking of what exercises to start them on, not sinking into sensations.

“That can wait.” Voice is muffled against Eiri’s neck. He feels as much as he hears.

Haku’s breath is ticklish, but the kiss that follows it something else. It sort of tickles too, in different places though. Eiri threads his fingers through Haku’s hair, absentmindedly trailing them along the back of Haku’s skull.

“Fine.” It’s not a defeat. It’s a compromise. “But it’ll be your fault when we have nothing prepared for their first day.”

“Whatever you say, Eiri.”

Eiri groans, knocking his forehead against the top of Haku’s head. If this is any indication of what teaching the kouhai is going to be like, it’s going to be a long couple of weeks (months?). Haku’s teaching style will surely be different from his and they’ll argue. Well, he’ll probably yell and Haku will stand there smiling around the straw of his juice box, waiting for Eiri to realize he’s making the kouhai uncomfortable. Eiri will want to punch him then kiss him. Or reverse the order, either is fine.

It will be difficult, but for all their differences he knows Haku’s strengths and Haku knows his. They both want the kouhai to succeed. And that will have to be enough. Or it might not be. The kouhai might all die anyway. Eiri’s goal is to do enough that if any don’t make it, at least he can say they did everything they could. Taught them everything they thought might help. Guilt is funny though. He’ll feel it anyway. No matter what he does that feeling of needing to say _I’m sorry_ to someone who will never hear it will tap him on the shoulder. It will walk behind him, poke at sore spots when he tries to sleep, and press on his lips when he’s been smiling too long.

Haku’s hand is right where he expects it to be.

Their fingers don’t fit together perfectly. Haku’s reach nearly down to his wrist, while his only cover half of Haku’s hand. Perfect is overrated. They have joked that their jinxes are a perfect match, but can you call anything that twisted and ugly perfect? Haku has been left alone, again and again, convinced that he’s the cause of a death. Eiri has gone through all the mess of dying, blood, pain, then numbness. But he’s never quite been able to reach the final moment. So they fit into each other’s lives by making room. Sliding baggage around and dusting out old corners to make space for everything they’ve left with each other.

Will they take all of those things back after graduation? When they separate will they move out of each other like roommates parting? Toss away old belongings they find cluttering up space that they’ll need for things like knowledge of how to survive solo missions, and remembering train schedules and hotel locations. They’ll need a spot to put sleeping alone, and a shelf for days without any real human interaction.

That isn’t an option for Eiri. He can’t even force Haku to throw out an empty candy box, he’s delusional if thinks he could rid himself of Haku in any capacity. He wouldn’t want to. He still has every time he told Haku he couldn’t stand him or that he wanted a new Messiah stashed away. Moments that are good for a laugh, better for reminding himself how important this person has become to him. Someone who doesn’t just find it convenient that Eiri won’t die, but needs him to live.

“You were reading earlier.” It’s a non sequitur, but Eiri can’t find the logical thread of their previous words in the mess of things he has dipped his hand into.

Haku lends him a hand and picks it up without question, “Yeah. You were taking too long to shower.”

It’s tempting to roll his eyes. “Where’d the book go?”

“Somewhere.”

“I should have known better than to assume you could find it in this mess.” The accusation is halfhearted.

Eiri knows he has become laxer with Haku the more he thinks about their future. He doesn’t complain quite as vehemently about wrappers or alarms or clutter. Haku has toned down the alarms on his own anyway. Instead he prefers invading Eiri’s bed and dozing off together for a few more hours. And now when Eiri does yell at Haku even he can hear more affection than frustration in his voice.

His emotions seem to be loud regardless.

An elbow slips into his ribs when Haku scrambles around, reaching under the pillow. Eiri blows several disturbed wrappers off of his chest. They flutter to the floor. He wonders how much time it would take for their entire floor to become covered in colored paper. If they would have enough time to make that happen if Eiri let Haku go completely unchecked.

“I found it.” Haku has what he’d been reading earlier in one hand, his juice box just dangling from where the straw is trapped between his teeth. “Did you want to read it?”

“No, I-” How much of his pride will he have to swallow to get this out? Rarely does he ask for anything like this. “You read it.”

Haku’s lip quirk into something that’s not really smile, but not quite a smirk either. He opens to his page and begins to read, silently.

Eiri grits his teeth. “Out loud.”

Amusement is softened into something gentler. Something that relaxes Haku’s mouth and steadies the spark in his eyes. They should talk about the concerns they both are having, but the future is hard to talk about. They don’t know how much time they have left. Hell, it could be long. Their kouhai are supposed to have some experience, but who's to say they won’t be completely incompetent when put to the test. Or they could be brilliant, and be providing support for Haku and Eiri’s graduation mission within weeks.

A double graduation of sorts.

The kouhai into full fledged cadets.

Haku and Eiri into their new chapter, whatever the hell that will be. Maybe it will wax poetic about distance making the heart grow fonder, or it might cut to the quick with unflinchingly tragic prose. They’ve been quite the story so far. Eiri doesn’t read as much as Haku. He’s never had an inclination to. But he’s been veracious when it comes to their story.

They’re at a point though where Eiri wouldn’t mind putting a bookmark. Linger around this spot for a while, avoiding the one thousand potential endings waiting for them. This is a nice spot to rest, let Haku pick up another story for a bit. A fictional one, with characters that won’t give away their ending.

Haku could ask. He doesn’t. Instead he tucks Eiri up beside him, guides Eiri’s head to his chest, kisses the top of his head. Their height difference is frustrating about sixty-five percent of the time, but it’s useful for cuddling. Not that Eiri would admit that. Eiri’s fingers, that aren’t tied up in Haku’s, slide into the fabric of Haku’s jacket and hold on tighter, tighter, tighter. Nobody is taking this away. Not the person beside him. Or the relief that soaks into him from every point of contact. Or the calm that comes with Haku’s voice gliding along words that belong to someone else, some other time, some other story.

The first signs of sleep blur words and lines until Eiri is remembering Souma and Shuusuke at their graduation. Another story not belonging to him or Haku, but similar enough. They had parted, but Eiri has no doubt they’ll see each other again. Some unstoppable force always seems to pull them together and not even Sakura can hold that back forever.

It will be the same for him and Haku. Without a doubt.

It doesn’t matter what or who he has to write over to make it happen.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Other fics I have finished (and am working on right now) have had more overtly sexual expressions of love, and I wanted to take a step back from that with this fic. Haku and Eiri have so many different ways they show affection and concern in their relationship. I wanted to play around with those other things, because they're just as important to a relationship.


End file.
